


Pomegranate Seeds

by centreoftheselights



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Mechanisms (Band), Ulysses Dies at Dawn (Album)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Biopunk, Body Horror, F/F, Genetic Engineering, Hacking, Inspired By Tumblr, Murder, Other, Serial Killers, Violence, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Persephone, Hades and the whole messy business with the pomegranate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomegranate Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired largely by the album [Ulysses Dies at Dawn](http://themechanisms.bandcamp.com/album/ulysses-dies-at-dawn), with a helping hand from [this Tumblr post](http://centrumlumina.tumblr.com/post/73012364271/twobearsforever-movie-about-a-person-who-falls).
> 
> If you are not already familiar with the immortal space-pirate crew of the starship Aurora generally known as [The Mechanisms](http://themechanisms.com/), then I highly recommend becoming so, although they come with warnings for violence, gore, body horror, death and occasional bad language.

This is a story about Persephone – but to understand Persephone, you have to start with her mother.

Demeter was an Olympian, and the word on the street puts her as the nicest of a nasty lot. Vicious and ruthless, of course, but only when she had to be. Demeter didn’t go in for vices the same way the other Olympians did, and why bother with the lower levels at all if you’re not going to have any fun there?

Besides, it’s easy to be well-liked when you conduct most of your business off-world – and Demeter did. She made her fortune from the colonised planets which fed the City, a loose cluster of terraformed rocks where you’d find nothing but grain and harvesting drones. Sole control of the food supply might be a thankless job, but it’s one that pays well.

So when Demeter decided she wanted a daughter of her own – _all_ of her own – well, anything is possible with enough time, money and genetic material. Demeter was rich in all three.

Persephone was born. She was beautiful of course – skin as gold as honey, and a long, loose tumble of dark curls. She had everything she wanted at her fingertips – the latest technology, the rarest delicacies, a whole crowd of nymphs to keep her company.

In time, she took over a small corner of her mother’s business. Genetics was her speciality – optimising yields, creating hardier strains of wheat and barley for each new barely-habitable world the City’s influence spread to. She started a neat sideline in flowers, developing exotic new species and selling them at top premium to be the centrepiece at Dionysus’s next party.

Gorgeous, immortal and brilliant – she was the perfect daughter, and she led the perfect life. What more could any girl want?

If you have to ask, then perhaps what happened next will surprise you as much as it did Demeter.

 

But there’s another player in this story. Hades had never lived in the towers of Olympus – the Acheron was buried deep in the heart of the city, away from the light. But they were still an Olympian, and conferences were occasionally necessary.

“If I can’t rely on your computing power –” Demeter began, at one such meeting.

“You can rely on it.”

“If you’re _raising_ _prices_ –” the volume rose. “We need the Acheron.”

Hades didn’t look impressed. “Everyone needs the Acheron.”

“Mother?”

Persephone’s appearance interrupted the argument. Of course, it wasn’t unusual for people to fall silent when she entered the room. Barely a century old, she still looked twenty-one, and wore blossoms woven into her hair where it tumbled over a dress of white silk.

As soon as she noticed Hades, Persephone could not draw her eyes away. She had never met them before, but she knew the reputation. Everyone did.

“Nothing to be concerned about, dearest,” Demeter told her with a humourless smile. “We’re simply negotiating.”

“There’s nothing to negotiate,” Hades told her. “The Acheron can only do so much. The new prices are what the processing time is worth, and it’s only going to get more expensive – unless you have some way of making a mind think faster.”

They turned to leave, their eyes flickering to Persephone again.

“Nice meeting you.”

Persephone smiled. “Likewise.”

 

A month later, the girl disappeared.

 

Demeter was furious. She declared her company closed for business. No food would be imported into the City until Persephone was safely returned. There were riots in the streets, and starvation loomed.

In the lower levels, the bodies began to pile up. The Metropolitan Power Company were working triple shifts. Brains were coming in at five times the usual rate, most of them damaged and barely-functional from the pain of a lingering death.

And in the midst of all this, three minds disappeared.

Now, people vanished in the city all the time, and there were a lot of places they might end up that weren’t inside the Acheron – at least, immediately speaking. But, while you could vanish from nearly everyone, the Underworld network knew where you were. Or at least, it knew what had happened to that precious grey matter in your skull. Hades didn’t care where you went or what you did, but the Acheron kept tabs on everyone.

Of course, occasionally a mind would slip through the net. Some people were good at disappearing, sometimes the program forgot to carry a one and things wouldn’t quite add up. It was rare, but it happened. Sometimes things had to be tracked down by hand. Every once in a while.

Three in a week was something else entirely. Even in the midst of all the chaos of the lower levels tearing themselves to pieces in the fight for food, that got noticed.

 

Thalia stumbled as she followed the stranger down a narrow alleyway. She had drunk a lot, in spite of the high prices, trying to dull the aching pangs in her stomach and the sharp fear of what was to come in the morning.

There was nothing else for it, though. She had made it by for the first week after Demeter threw her little hissy fit, but her money had run out. She was going to die. So why not volunteer, and trade in those last few days of starvation for the faint hope of a pleasant afterlife?

But she hadn’t been able to face it sober. And then the stranger in the red dress, the beautiful woman who had introduced herself as Kore – well, why not make one last happy memory?

“Where did you say you lived?” she slurred out. Kore turned, peering through short-cropped black curls to smile back at her. She took Thalia’s hand.

“Not far,” she promised. Her voice sent a thrill down Thalia’s spine, just as it had back in the bar.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said, half to herself. “I don’t know the first thing about you.”

Kore laughed. “Well, we can’t have that. What would you like to know?”

“I don’t know, everything.” The stranger’s laugher was light and musical. “What do you do?”

“I like to think of myself as an artist.”

Thalia nodded. This part of the City was full of artists, starving and otherwise. Mostly the former. “You have a patron, then?”

“Not yet.” She’d be the starving kind then. “But I have plans to get one.”

“Ambitious?” Thalia laughed. “Going to see you on Mount Olympus one day, am I?”

For a moment, Kore’s smile faltered. “Perhaps not.”

Thalia tugged her to a halt.

“Hey.” She wrapped one hand around Kore’s honey-gold cheek, feeling the softness of the skin there. “Tell me about your art.”

“Actually.” Kore bit her lip, hiding a smile. “I was hoping you’d help me with a project.”

“I’m not much of an artist.”

“You don’t have to be.” Kore’s eyes were lit up with passion. “You see, I have this theory – do you know anything about plants?”

Thalia shook her head. “Do you?”

“My mother knew a little about biology,” Kore explained. “The amazing part of a plant is how it reproduces. They produce thousands of seeds, sometimes even millions of potential offspring. In the wild, most of them die off before reaching adulthood.”

“Sounds like a few people I know.”

Kore smiled. “But you see, given the right environment, every single seed can grow into a healthy adult plant. From one parent, a whole generation can be born. Given the right circumstances for growth.”

Thalia blinked. “Great.”

“I have a theory,” Kore murmured, making Thalia lean in close to hear until their noses almost touched. “That thoughts work the same way.”

“And what’s the right environment for an idea to grow in?” Thalia asked.

Kore’s laughter reverberated through the tiny gap between them.

“Other ideas.”

Thalia leaned forward, expecting a kiss, but Kore pulled away, looking regretful.

“My studio is just down here,” she insisted, leading Thalia deeper into the dark alleyway.

Sure enough, they came to a door.

“What do you say?” Kore asked as she entered the passcode. “Do you want to help me grow some new thoughts?”

“Inspiration,” Thalia mused. “I think I can do that.”

“Then why don’t you take a look?”

Thalia stepped through the door and froze, horrified by the sight which greeted her.

But before she could open her mouth to scream, Persephone’s knife was at her throat.

 

When they tracked down Persephone’s workroom, nearly two weeks after she had left her mother’s home, they found a masterpiece.

Five brains pressed together, bulging against one another under the thick ruby sheen of blood and electrolytes which nourished the system. Each mind wired into the next, connected and rerouted to work in concert, one giant super-computer with another half a dozen empty ports.

And in the midst of it all, Persephone herself, the gore running in rivulets down her honey-gold arms as she wired the sixth brain into place, its owner already rotting on the floor.

She turned as the door slid open, her eyes settling on the intruder. Then she smiled, brilliant even through the bloodstains.

“Oh good,” she said. “You’re here.”

Hades took in the scene.

“You know,” they said. “There were easier ways to get my attention.”


End file.
